


Faking It

by SuedeScripture



Series: Nostalgia Universe [2]
Category: Actor RPF, Lord of the Rings RPF
Genre: Accidental Sex, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-31
Updated: 2011-12-31
Packaged: 2017-11-28 00:31:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,236
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/668228
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SuedeScripture/pseuds/SuedeScripture
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A Faux Year's Eve party for the ages. Inspired, of course, by a little joke someone told that has spawned dozens of different versions of this night.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Faking It

**Author's Note:**

  * For [eff_reality](https://archiveofourown.org/users/eff_reality/gifts).



It didn’t really matter that technically, it wasn’t New Years Eve, technically not even Christmas yet, but since they would all be scattered around the globe when that actually happened, and Peter had shelled out to give them an amazing Christmas/Millennium New Year’s/End of the First 58 Days of Filming, there was no reason not to combine all these things in one magnificent party.

And it was that. Billy had never heard of one man booking out an entire lodge as big as the Powderhorn (as well as a couple of the surrounding hotels) for a single rousing shindig entirely for them and the things they’d accomplished already. The year prior, Billy had celebrated New Year with a bottle of whiskey and the telly with few job prospects on his horizon, so looking around this massive wooden lodge, the raftered celebration hall surrounded along the upper balconies by the beautiful rooms they been given and the spectacular view, at all the people he’d met and worked with—yeah, Billy could say he’d accomplished something grand in these last few months.

He’d been making the rounds, chatting with crewman, eating from the amazing spreads the lodge had catered, empty glasses set down and new ones picked up, awaiting a countdown to midnight for their Faux Year’s Eve. Because yes, if they could bring this movie to life the way it looked like they were doing, then they could certainly move the Millennium ahead a fortnight.

Billy’d found himself near the DJ table, needing to shout to be heard with Elijah manning the CDs when someone had pointed up, others laughing and oohing and gesturing until he looked up and found the mistletoe dangling above his head.

What the hell, it was a party, Elijah had been forbidden to repeat Prince another time, and Billy had had enough excellent Cognac on the company dime not to question too thoroughly why there was mistletoe hung up before it was even Christmas. Instead, he grabbed the closest person, which was not surprisingly Dominic, and focused his thoroughness into snogging him under it. Because after four months of Billy N’ Dom name brand mayhem, this crowd came to these functions expecting to be entertained. And if the crowd wanted a show to match the passing of a Millennium, then by God, they’d get more than they bargained for.

Dom hesitated only long enough for Billy to feel him draw a short inhale through his nose before, being Dom, he fell right into it, clutching a handful of the waist of Billy’s shirt, while the other rose and brushed Billy’s cheek in a caress reserved for the beloved.

He tasted of Riesling and the undercurrent of the doughy sweetness of the biscuits on the sideboards, and he didn’t hold back letting the closest audience members see his tongue parry with Billy’s. Even when they began to separate, Billy one-upped, darting back in for a last bite, letting Dom’s lower lip slide slowly from the grasp of his teeth.

The crowd roared, but they weren’t quite done. Billy held firm an expression of fiery intensity while Dom opened swimmy black eyes. Sure he had Dom’s entire attention, Billy gave him a nearly imperceptible wink. The fingers twisted in Billy’s shirt tightened–Dom got it.

Billy slid his own hand up and around, through the short hair of Dom’s nape, hearing someone else wolf-whistle through their fingers, but didn’t let his eyes leave Dom’s face, his red mouth. Dom’s forehead dropped to Billy’s, sliding both hands around Billy’s waist and down, down, yeah, palmed Billy’s arse and drew their hips flush together. Elijah (it must have been) gave a shout, a disbelieving “Oh!” of amused shock, and then another matching, smaller one that read like he wasn’t quite so sure it was funny anymore.

It was the cue Billy wanted. Yanking Dom by a wrist and never leaving off the wolfish expression, Billy hauled him through the crowd and up the staircase to the upper balcony of rooms overlooking the lounge.

Dom played the game and played it well, knowing they could all still see, they were watching from below. Reaching the door, Dom plastered himself against Billy, mouthing his nape as Billy dug out his key, opened the door, shut it and slammed Dom loudly against the other side.

Smiling now, Dom shouted, slammed _himself_ back against the door again, adding a convincing whimper to the end. Billy leaned against the wall beside him and laughed.

“Oh, we’re going all the way with this one,” Dom sniggered lowly.

“We are?” Billy asked between giggles.

Dom launched himself from the door and onto the bed, jumping on it like a five year old until he found a particularly noisy spring. “Oh yeah, Billy!” he shrieked, jumping on the spot again. “Yes! YES!”

He stopped jumping long enough to kick off one shoe and tug off the other, all the while moaning and yelling and emulating every porno ever made.

“Yeah! Ah yeah, Billy, yes! Like that, yeah!”

Billy grinned and threw himself on the bed while Dom found his spring again, jumping and moaning rhythmically. Billy’s landing thwacked the headboard against the wall, which caught Dom’s attention immediately, the glint in his eyes and Cheshire grin sparking back at Billy.

“Fuck yes Bill, harder!” he shouted.

Situating himself among the disturbed pillows, Billy reached back and over his head to the rungs of the headboard, and locking eyes with Dom, synchronized his deliberate thwack with Dom’s next jump on the squeaky spring.

“Ah yeah, hard. Fuck yeah, unh, unh, ah! FUCK ME BILLY!” Dom yelled and jumped and moaned and generally made an enormous twat of himself until, with all the talent of a highly paid phone sex operator with a very useful noise machine, they brought their act to a long, drawn out, wake-the-neighbors and shake-the-ceiling variety climax.

Dom collapsed next to Billy, laughing so hard he wasn’t making any sound at all. Only the muffled sound of the music below could be heard, the din of the crowd above it rather quieter than it ought to have been. They lay catching their breath, listening to it slowly come back up to party volume.

“Think they bought it?” Dom panted.

“That you’re a tart and a screamer? I think they’ve got that down, Miss Ryan. I wouldn’t have figured you for a bottom though.”

“I’m not, thank you very fucking much.”

“Aye, which is why you just screamed ‘fuck me Billy’, in front of God and everybody.”

“Pfft. It was in character. Peter will commend my dedication to my craft. You know how many people get Oscars for playing gay? William Hurt, Peter Finch, Tom Hanks.”

Billy raised his eyebrows, “Ian McKellen.”

“Eh,” Dom shrugged dismissively, “He was obviously pushing the limits of his comfort zone.”

Billy sniffed, “Perhaps my staunch masculinity just put you in your rightful place.”

“Must’ve done, what with you shoving your tongue down my throat out there,” Dom giggled, “Is that how you kiss women?”

Billy turned his head on the rumpled pillow, crossing his arms behind his head, tired and sweaty from all the ruckus, “Is this off the books or will you be taking an ad out in _The Daily Record_ the next time I owe you money?”

“I just wondered if that’s your typical form or if I was privy to some special brand of Boydian wooing tactics.”

“Oh, it was _special_ for you, then?” Billy chuckled, still catching his breath, “Glad to have deflowered such a beacon of innocence as you, Dom.”

Dom pouted and snuggled up into Billy’s side, planting a typical Dom kiss on his cheek and pillowing his head in Billy’s warm and slightly damp armpit. “It was nice, that’s all. And here we thought the birds were all over you for the accent.”

Billy reached round with the arm Dom wasn’t lying on, meaning to pat his shoulder, but getting his stubbly chin instead. “Shite, my secret’s out. It’s not the Glasgae working class charm after all.”

Giggling again, Dom rolled, crossing his arms to lean half on Billy’s chest and sang, falsetto and well out of tune, “Is it in his eyes? Oh no! It’s just his charms! In his warm embrace? Oh no! That’s just his arms! If I wanna know if he loves me so, it’s in his kiss. Yeah! That’s where it is!"

Billy shook with laughter, shaking Dom with him. “Ten point penalty and another notch on your questionable sexuality, Dominic.”

“What for?”

“Cher. Very very gay.”

“Oi, Cher didn’t do that one first. It was… someone not Cher. Lij would know.”

“Call him up here and we’ll scratch another notch on his as well.”

“It was done when ‘gay’ meant happy and fancy free,” Dom quipped.

“Gay. With rainbows. Else you wouldn’t like my kissing.”

Dom met Billy’s eyes with a hint of that mischievous sparkle beneath tired content. “I do. I am undone. I’m switching teams for you, Billy Boyd. I’ll never go back to women.”

“You want another go?” Billy challenged sleepily,” Have at, while I’m too tired to fight you off.”

Of course, Dom did. He leaned up and kissed Billy softly at first, dry and chaste, nuzzling his round nose along the crease and point of Billy’s in almost Eskimo fashion until Billy’s hand came down to the back of Dom’s head at the silly sweetness of it.

"Is this how _you_ kiss women?” Billy grinned when Dom pulled back a little.

“Why? No stealing my best moves!”

Billy gave him the eyebrow, “I had that one down before you were chasing skirts on the playground, Monaghan. I thought you were switching teams.”

Dom grinned at that dare and went in a little harder, more breath and heat and pressure until Billy parted his lips a little and let him trace the woody taste of the brandy with his tongue.

Eyes dropping closed, a small noise left Billy with a puff of breath from his nose, as Dom pressed a little deeper, a little hungrier. Dom’s form wasn’t so bad either, truth be told, and when Billy slid his fingers up through Dom’s hair again as he had downstairs, Dom’s own breath left him in a shivery puff that reverberated in Billy’s ears and woke a tingle in his gut.

Dom’s arms unfolded, one elbow sinking into the pillows beside Billy’s head, the other sliding over Billy’s bicep and shoulder, fingertips stroking sensitive spots beneath Billy’s jaw and ear. Billy wondered if maybe they were playing the usual one-up game again, or still, but didn’t much care since it felt nice, felt like something work had all but eliminated time for and that Billy spent most of his time lately too tired to pursue. This was already here and it was easy affection with no thirty-day waiting period.

The kiss broke but Dom’s mouth didn’t stop, lips traveling and mouthing over Billy’s chin and adam’s apple. Billy swallowed when Dom ran his tongue over a pulse point and nibbled up to his earlobe, making Billy squirm. He ran his hand down Dom’s back to the waist of his jeans, hesitated and continued onto his arse. After all, Dom had scored that move downstairs, it was only fair.

Only Dom took it as leave to straddle over Billy with all the sudden heat and pressure of his weight, hips aligned, the growing hardness between them as much a shock as it was a pleasure.

“Oh,” Billy gasped at it, into Dom’s mouth. In this moment he realized he was really very drunk. Ordinarily he would have tipped Dom neatly and unceremoniously onto the floor by now. The idea dimly hovered near thought, but seemed to fizzle on the soggy ends of his nerves as pleasure fired up his spine.

Dom’s breath shuddered and one hand buried itself in Billy’s hair. “This is fucking weird,” he whispered, “Just so you know.”

“You started it.”

“You practically asked me to,” Dom chuffed against Billy’s cheek.

“You’d jump off a bridge if I asked you to.”

“Did it,” Dom grinned, “You asked me not to, as I recall.”

“I did.”

Dom was flushed up to his ears, his eyes liquid and half-lidded and frilled with black lashes, his mouth swollen and wet, looking bewildered and wild and shy at once, in that way that was usually so fleeting on him. Billy’s chest surged with an almost possessive affection, and he slid his hands around Dom’s back and pulled him closer, tighter. Dom moaned softly at the pressure the subtle movement caused, and the pinch between his brows said he wasn’t faking.

The kissing resumed, messy and damp and deep, tasting of wine and then fading to nothing but Dom’s taste, the sound of his heavy breathing and quiet noises. Dom’s hips shifted, bunched and swiveled and met Billy’s erratic jabs up, both of them pretending not to before actively searching for it, aching for more friction, more sensation of the surprising brush of each other.

The mattress squeaked, and suddenly Dom rolled off to lie beside Billy with one large hand thrown over his eyes, the other fluttering at his belt, belly heaving with wild breaths and compulsive swallows.

Billy felt as tightly wound, watching Dom struggle with whatever morals he was dredging up. He was hard himself, and stuck uncomfortably in the bunched up crease of his jeans, so he reached down to fix that, humming a bit at how nice the pressure of his own hand felt.

“Jesus, Bill,” Dom breathed, focused on Billy’s hand on his crotch for a moment before squeezing his eyes shut, and letting his own hand slide down and grip himself through his jeans. It didn’t take much longer for him to make quick one-handed work of his belt and zip, then push his hand inside.

Well, if Dom was going to wank right there in front of him, Billy figured he might as well join in, morality be damned. He caught only glimpses of Dom’s hand moving on hard, red, damp flesh in the vee of his jeans, but that, the exhibitionist in him, and the soundtrack was enough for Billy to work with. Far from Dom’s screaming act, now he kept on with only the sound of skin on skin, shifting cloth, and such quiet moans and shuddery breaths that felt like only a person sharing the space of the bed could hear. It built up to breathy gasps, then held breath, and when Dom came, he jarred the bed enough for that noisy spring to make itself heard once or twice.

What surprised Billy into a mind-blowing orgasm of his own, though, was when Dom–spent and sweaty and drawing deep breaths, like coming up for air from a wipeout–pulled his damp hand from his jeans and brought it to his mouth, licking up the side of his thumb where the come ran down his wrist.

“Fuck!” Billy gritted his teeth and came hard beneath his own hand, feeling it pool hotly around his navel, the sheer dirtiness of all this yanking fierce aftershocks from him for nearly a minute as he watched Dom, watching _him_ with sparks in his eyes as he dipped his fingers back to wipe up any traces on his belly, his tongue curling around them, cleaning them off.

They lay there for ages, it seemed, Billy staring at the ceiling and cupping himself gently under half undone denim and Dom in the same, though not quite as sticky predicament. When Dom moved, it was to pass a box of tissues over from the bedside table, and it felt like the same ominous terror of having fallen asleep with a girl and not having a clue who the fuck she was in the morning.

“You’re disgusting,” Billy decided.

“Mmm-hm,” rumbled Dom, “And yet you’re the one who needs a tissue. Or two. Been awhile?”

“Piss off,” Billy wiped up, dropping the tissues over the side of the bed and zipping up. “At least I put tissues to good use, unlike some people.”

“Tissues kill trees.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, I’ll remember the trees next time I go for a wank,” Billy laughed.

“Hey, when one’s mum does the laundry, the young catholic boy learns to improvise.”

“Ah, more pertinent information about your family dynamics, Dominic. I’ll remember not to bring up your eyesight when I meet your mum.”

Dom met Billy’s eyes for the first time since this conversation began, looking flushed and guilty and silly. “I… er. Didn’t really mean to–”

“Yeah, no. S’okay.”

“Right,” Dom licked his lips, and Billy fixated. “Should we go back down to the party?”

“Already? You don’t want a cuddle?”

“Piss off,” Dom blushed rather prettily, sitting up on the edge of the mattress to redo his belt. He stood, going to the loo to wash his hands. Billy lay there for a bit watching the way Dom’s shoulders shifted beneath his shirt before hauling himself up, both of them skirting awkwardly around each other as Dom located his shoes. He could mark this up on the list of the weird things that had happened to him in this last year.

He washed his own hands, returning to find Dom hovering at the door with the same sort of look he got before each take of a particularly tough scene.

“How are we going to play this?” he asked, even shaking out his arms in preparation. Billy chuckled, shaking his head as Dom looked up at him, his eyes wide and vast and even a bit vulnerable.

Billy tugged at the hem of his shirt, checking it belatedly for stains and scrubbed at the back of his head, shrugging, “Play it like it is, I suppose.”

Dom blinked, much more going on behind his eyes than his face betrayed, nodding as he threw open the door.

A cheer erupted from the party below, and Dom spread his arms wide from the balcony above the party, accepting it without any of the embarrassment he may have had moments ago. Billy followed with a bit more modesty, making his way passed Dom and feeling him drape himself over his shoulders as they made their way back to the staircase. At the bottom, they broke apart, Dom making a beeline for the biscuits and Billy accepting yet another glass of brandy.

And eventually it all wound back down. People danced and drank and laughed and forgot their little stunt, until Elijah noticed the clock and climbed his way up on a table, only to be scooped off onto the shoulders of Sean and one of the stunties, shouting out the countdown as they all watched the secondhand tick down.

“Ten! Nine! Eight! Seven!”

A hand landed on his shoulder and Dom materialized there, his face bright and warm and smiling as he counted with the rest. “Four! Three! Two! One!”

The cheers of two hundred people erupted. Orlando kissed one of the wardrobe girls. Billy darted a glance to his left, finding Dom staring at him, and his stomach flipped over. But Dom merely pursed his lips in an air-kiss, chased by a secret grin, and Billy sent a grin down to his toes. Yeah, this was a bit of an improvement over his last New Year’s Eve. Even if it was all fake.


End file.
